


Your Heart With Me (I Carry It in My Heart)

by minnabird



Category: Solo: A Star Wars Story (2018), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Developing Friendships, Droid Feels (Star Wars), Fix-It, Gen, Podfic Welcome, well people still die just not L3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:40:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28544187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minnabird/pseuds/minnabird
Summary: His heart hangs on a thin gold chain under his shirts, right beside the beating flesh one behind his ribs, and most days he almost forgets it’s there.Lando lost L3, but that doesn't mean he didn't try to get her back. Fourteen years pass, and he finds unexpected kinship with another Rebel who loves a droid like family. Seventeen, and he begins to hope again.
Relationships: C1-10P | Chopper & Hera Syndulla, Lando Calrissian & Hera Syndulla, Lando Calrissian & L3-37
Comments: 8
Kudos: 14





	Your Heart With Me (I Carry It in My Heart)

**Author's Note:**

> the blame for this lies with my feelings about another Solo rewatch and AJ and Basil in the SWBB server for egging me on, in that order.

He doesn't plan on ever bringing it up to anyone. Had given up hope years ago. His heart hangs on a thin gold chain under his shirts, right beside the beating flesh one behind his ribs, and most days he almost forgets it’s there.

Lando also never planned on seeing Captain Syndulla again. The first time they’d met in a briefing, he thought he was cruising for a nice bruise to decorate his jaw. There was a moment, as it broke up, when she paused within arms’ reach, and he was certain…

“Captain,” he’d said, inclining his head. Her eyes trailed down to his arms, folded under his cape, as if looking for the skifter up his sleeve. Then she met his eyes and raised an eyebrow.

“It’s General now, actually.”

“Well-earned, I’m sure.” He put all of his honest admiration of the woman into the words, paired with a brilliant smile.

“Scuttlebutt says the _Falcon_ used to be yours,” she replied.

“Han still telling that story? Let me set you right on some details…”

Syndulla snorted lightly. “Ever since I made Solo admit my ship’s better, people think I have an interest. I’ve heard enough about that bucket of bolts for a lifetime.”

Lando relaxed into the banter, holding one hand out to let Syndulla go first. “She is a beauty. The _Ghost,_ if I remember correctly? I always wanted to get my hands on a VCX-100.”

“I have no interest in being involved in any more high-stakes sabacc or whatever ship-swapping game the two of you are playing.”

But like Solo—like himself, if he’s honest—praise of her ship is a quick way to Hera’s vanity. Trust takes longer, but there’s few enough of them, and they’re desperate enough for leadership to give him a commission, so they learn that, too. The second Death Star blows, and he’s a little hurt not to get her congratulations, until he realizes she’s flat out not at the celebration.

Ice in his gut. He’s sure he would have heard if they were down a general, but something’s amiss. He bypasses questioning entirely and strikes out for the Ghost’s usual berth, leaving the noise of the festivities behind him. _Home One_ is in night cycle, the spaces not in use lit an ethereal shade of blue-green he still finds a little eerie.

There’s a warm light spilling from the _Ghost_ ’s cockpit, though, and it makes something inside him ease. “Knock knock,” he calls from inside the cargo hold, instead of actually knocking. The intercom comes on overhead.

_“Not now, Calrissian.”_

He pauses. Not so much because of the unfriendliness—even these days she can be prickly, standoffish—but because there’s a raw edge under her voice. He goes to the intercom here, presses the button. “Hey, now, General. Just came for a friendly chat. You lose someone down there?”

It’s impersonal, talking to her through the speakers when he could be going to find her, but he won’t go invading her ship. He waits, leaning beside the intercom panel.

_“Not...he’s not lost. Just needs...some repair work.”_

His mind leaps from repair work to that astromech droid that’s always following her in an instant. “Need a hand, sister? I’ve got some experience with droid repairs myself.”

A pause, then, _“Come on up.”_

He finds her in the galley, parts and tools spread across the floor. The silver-and-orange chassis is singed, but it doesn’t look like he got the brunt of a turbolaser. She doesn’t glance up, but she does scoot aside to make room. “How’d you know it was Chop?”

“Been there myself,” Lando admits, and rolls up his sleeves. “Now, tell me what needs doing.”

Chopper still doesn’t like him after. Lando thinks he likes him more than ever; he’s still got a soft spot for badly-adjusted droids. He’d found himself toying with the chain around his neck as the night wore on, worrying at it. The next morning—Syndulla hadn’t exactly offered him a bunk, but he’d fallen asleep slumped against the booth and she’d left him—she eyes him across their breakfast and asks, “What’s that?”

Her fork points straight at the chain, and he realizes he’s let it hang outside his shirt. The chip catches the light in its plasteel case, unmistakably not jewelry. “All I got left of mine,” he admits, and spills an abbreviated version of the story without hesitation. She’s someone who understands, who’s seen a droid as a partner, a beloved friend.

“You got this off the _Falcon_?”

“Before Han won her, yeah. Never was able to get the data reconstructed into something that could…” His voice chokes a little, and he shrugs. “Haven’t been able to bring Elthree back.”

“Did you ever ask anyone to help?”

It’s an innocent question, and the truth is, he hadn’t. Not even Lobot, who he trusted, had lost in horribly similar ways. He had let it go, let _her_ go, because it hurt too much to keep trying and he had other things to focus his efforts on. He frowns, tapping his fingers on the table, and she understands.

“If you ever need a hand,” she says, and lets the matter drop.

He’s shamed to realize how long it is before he brings it up to her. Maybe he isn’t ready; maybe the New Republic and Cloud City and other friends need him too much. By the time the opportunity comes to make it out to Lothal, three years have passed.

“I’d like to come out, meet that boy of yours. Catch up with the crew,” he tells her over comms. She’s gracious, and he covers his nervousness in bluster and a little too much flirtation. Jacen Syndulla is frightfully big and full of questions and energy; he’s used to Han and Leia’s sprog, who’s two and vacillates between quiet and making his feelings stridently known. There’s business to be done, too; it’s not just a pleasure trip. It’s almost two full days before he’s able to get enough quiet time with Hera to ask her what he wants to ask.

She takes the chip with understanding in her eyes. “I’ll see what I can do, Lando,” she promises.

And he forgets about it. He has to. It’s that or go mad with wondering. What he doesn’t expect is for Hera to show up herself, grinning and expecting a tour of Cloud City. Confusion and hope war in his chest as he shows her his city, and he’s a little surprised when she takes him up on his offer of a drink. “Not that I’m not happy to see you,” he says. “The pleasure of your company, as always…”

Hera cuts him off. “But you want to know why I’m here,” she says, a smile in her eyes. She turns, eyeing Chopper, who has followed them this whole way. “Chop?” she says.

With a mischievous chatter, the droid pops open a compartment. A small, spiderlike droid climbs out. “That’s the last time I let you do anything like that. Really, the lengths I go for a good joke…”

Lando’s on his feet, the drink forgotten, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. The vocabulator's tones are too high and brittle, but there’s something about the inflection, something...he doesn’t want to hope this is what he thinks it is, but he also doesn’t think Hera would play a joke this cruel. “El...Elthree?”

The droid’s entire blocky head swivels towards him, and then the spider legs skitter across the floor to him. The droid shoots out a thin line, ignoring Lando’s startled “Hey!” as the end adheres to his cloak. It hoists itself to his shoulder, photoreceptors expanding and contracting a few times. “Hmph,” it says. “You got old.”

He stares at the droid, and it shifts its legs a few times, then curls into a hump on his shoulder. “Yes, it’s me, go ahead and laugh now at this body, but you’re getting me a new one. I’ve got three designs and a parts list. I hear you’re quite rich these days, I’m sure you can afford it.”

“Nothing too good for you,” he manages, his voice much softer than he means it to be, and looks up at Hera. He hopes his eyes communicate his gratitude. He’s not sure his voice can do the job just now.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Your Heart With Me (I Carry It in My Heart)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28821492) by [Gondolinpod (Gondolin)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gondolin/pseuds/Gondolinpod)




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